


Trapped

by thehotinpsychotic



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotinpsychotic/pseuds/thehotinpsychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way was never the popular kid. In fact, he wasn't even the well liked, low profile kid. He was never bullied, he was- and is- just... there. He considers his only duty to be watching over his friend Frank and graduating high school alive. Things change when he meets Patrick Stump, a freshman in his humanities class. As his relationship with Patrick deepens, Gerard finds out the boy's biggest secret and, given the decision of outing him or keeping the secret, will he make the right one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first day of school at East Valley High is just like any other. Gerard drives to school, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. He arrives ten minutes before the bell and makes the decision to spend that fleeting time in the art room. He’s lucky to have art first thing in the morning; it’s a privilege to draw for an extra ten minutes before class even starts.

      No, nothing is special about the start of Gerard’s senior year. He doesn’t even feel different. There’s supposed to be a hovering motivation of this being his last year of high school, but he really doesn’t sense it. It’s almost as if the rest of his life will be spent in that dreaded building. He doesn’t hate high school, no, he’s finally grown content. Still, he can think of no worse punishment than that of routine. He wants extraordinary, and he isn’t going to find it here.

      Gerard can’t find extraordinary, so there was no 0ther route than for the extraordinary to find him. And it came to him in the vessel of a fifteen year old boy named Patrick Stump.

      Patrick hadn’t been there initially; Gerard had never even heard the name, and everything was perfectly fine before he knew Patrick. But the second that Patrick came into his life, Gerard realized that he’d been missing something.

      Gerard’s first time meeting Patrick is in his second period humanities class. Humanities is a prep course for academic decathlon, an extracurricular Gerard has participated in since freshman year.

      Out of the enormous amount of freshman coming into the high school this year, zero had opted to take humanities. At least, that’s what Gerard thought. The universe practically forced Patrick into that class for the sole purpose of proving Gerard wrong.

      Patrick is the last one in the classroom that second day of the 2014-15 year, and Gerard doesn’t even see him come in. It isn’t until the boy sits down next to him that Gerard is aware of his existence.

      Patrick’s existence isn’t a particularly quiet one, either. In fact, he can easily be considered as one of the more popular boys in his grade. This isn’t the norm, a quiet, introverted kid like him being socially successful. But this is the case. He had a number of relationships in the past, none of which were serious, of course. It was middle school, and dating usually meant sharing a bus seat. But now, this is high school, this is different. This is breaking down crying when doing homework. This is experimenting with teens whose last names you can’t remember. This is trying to come to grips with reality, and failing to. This is buying weed from a member of the National Honors Society, and this is taking Aderall to pull an all-nighter and finish your semester final paper. This is real shit, and these kids have it up to their necks.

      Gerard takes interest in the boy, greeting, “Hey. I’m Gerard.”

      “Patrick,” the boy replies. He brushes a hand through his bangs, his hand trembling slightly.

      “Hey, relax,” Gerard advises. “It’s alright.”

      Patrick gives a giggle, a nervous one accompanied with an uneasy look. “I’m fine.”

      “You’re cute when you’re lying,” Gerard says softly.

      Patrick turns scarlet, and he begins to stammer, struggling to piece together a response. Luckily for him, the bell rings, signaling the class to be quiet and give their attention to the teacher, which he readily does.

      Gerard rolls his eyes, eventually turning his head to the teacher. He doesn’t get a single chance to speak to Patrick for the rest of the period; the teacher talks right up to the bell. Although Patrick was the last one into the room, he’s the first one out of it, making Gerard scramble to catch up with him.

      Gerard is unable to find Patrick in the crowded hallway. It only makes sense that Patrick is always in a hurry for class; he’s definitely uptight, and is certainly trying to hide it. Gerard settles for making a mental note to speak with him later, heading to his next class.

      Gerard runs into Patrick again, much sooner than he expected. He goes down to the locker room for his seventh hour gym class to see Patrick down there, along with Frank.

      Frank is Gerard’s best friend. The two met when Frank moved there during Gerard’s 8th grade year. Frank was a 5’2 seventh grader with ripped jeans and dyed hair, and Gerard was the designated fat kid. It only made sense for them to become friends.

      Ever since Gerard shed 45 pounds and gained about 20 pounds of muscle, he’d felt that he was finally capable of standing a chance against his peers. That was the summer of his freshman year. From sophomore year on, he proceeded to give zero shits about anything that wasn’t important, and he took it upon himself to watch over Frank.

      Not that Frank can’t take care of himself. He’s just such a genuinely sweet, happy guy, and Gerard hates to see him be picked apart over something trivial.

      It’s not even two minutes past seventh period when Frank is given a hard time in the locker room. The kid giving it to him is this junior named Dalton, a sort of dirt bag that Gerard was never too fond of.

      “Hey, Iero,” Dalton calls.

      Frank gazes up at him, replying, “Yeah?”

      Dalton strides over and punches Frank hard in the stomach, spitting, “Think fast.”

      Frank bursts out coughing, still managing to wheeze, “Good one.”

      Gerard takes no time in shoving Dalton, cursing, “Hey, asshole. Back off.”

      Dalton, having gotten into a shoving match with Gerard before, decides to step down. He doesn’t apologize, but he retreats to the gym silently.

      Gerard turns to speak with Frank, only to see Patrick already consoling the boy. Patrick makes fleeting eye contact with Gerard before patting Frank on the shoulder and leaving, heading upstairs to the gym.

      Gerard rushes over to his friend, asking, “What’d Patrick say to you?”

      “Nothing important,” Frank answers, stomping into his sneakers. He grabs Gerard by the forearm, dragging him along. “Let’s go; we’re going to be late.”

      “What do you mean, ‘nothing important?’” Gerard demands. “It came from Patrick’s mouth, it had to be important.”

      Frank smirks, asking, “What, do you have a crush on him or something?”

      “Well, yeah,” Gerard admits. “Frank, you know me. I got a crush on our cashier at the gas station and thought about him for like a month straight.”

      “You did think about him, but not straight,” Frank jokes.

      Gerard punches him in the shoulder, making Frank whine. The two reach the gym in time to run the four lap warm up. Naturally, Gerard is the last one to finish, with Frank not far ahead, but what is a surprise is Patrick being the first one done, beating sophomores, juniors, seniors even.

      “That kid’s fucking crazy,” frank wheezes, gazing at Patrick in awe.

      “If he’s crazy, then I want to be,” Gerard responds.

      The class splits up into four teams to play volleyball, and it’s by luck that Frank and Gerard are lumped into the same group. They assume their positions, Gerard in the back right corner where he can do the least damage, and Frank in the front row. They face Patrick’s team first, Patrick being the very first one to serve.

      Patrick tosses the ball up, hitting it with his open hand and sending it sailing over the net and straight at Gerard’s chest.

      Gerard grunts; the ball had struck him hard. It bounces off onto the ground, and he looks up to see Patrick with both hands over his mouth, his brows furrowed. Gerard raises a hand and waves to assure he’s fine, kicking the ball back to the other side.

      Patrick proceeds to serve about four or so in a row before Gerard’s team can make a measly attempt at returning it. Frank lobs it over the net, just to have the other team set up a spike which hits Gerard’s feet.

      Patrick’s team ends up obliterating Gerard’s, and Gerard is perfectly fine with that. He’s opted out of P.E. for one semester each year since freshman year, and he intends to keep it that way.

      The boys all head down to the locker room to shower. Gerard, as usual, avoids the shower, dousing himself with deodorant instead before getting dressed.

      He sits on the bench, struggling to tie his worn Converses, when he notices Patrick emerging from the showers, towel wrapped loosely around his hips. His hair is pasted to his cheek and forehead in wet strands and he has the slightest bit of radiance coming from the water glistening off his chest and stomach. He’s walking past a sophomore named Logan when said sophomore yanks on the hem of his towel.

      It just so happened to be that very moment that both Gerard and Frank were looking at Patrick.

      Patrick turns beet red, cupping a hand over himself and reaching for his towel, so flustered that he drops it several times before hoisting it back up.

      Frank merely acts as though he wasn’t looking, standing in his underwear and pretending to inspect his nails. Gerard, however, grabs a nearby towel from the floor and snaps it against Logan’s shoulder, scolding, “Douchebag!”

      Logan blushes himself, ducking his head into his shirt. Gerard scoffs at him before peering at Patrick, asking, “You alright?”

      “I’m fine,” Patrick mutters, although he sure doesn’t sound like it. There’s a waver to his voice as though he’s on the brink of tears, and all it takes is a steady look from Gerard to have him break down in front of the other boys.

      One of the teens starts to snicker, and Gerard growls, “Shut the fuck up.”

      Gerard stands, grabbing Patrick by the shoulder and leading him into the bathroom to talk, Patrick’s backpack in his other hand.

      Gerard hands him his bag, mumbling, “I grabbed your clothes.”

      “Thanks,” Patrick sniffles, pulling his clothing out. He steps into his pants and underwear, pulling them up beneath his towel as Gerard speaks.

      “Everything okay?”

      Patrick shrugs into his button up, replying, “Yeah, yeah; everything’s great.”

      “Then why’d you start crying?” Gerard challenges. “And don’t get me wrong- I’m all for crying, but the thing about it is that it’s never without good reason.”

      “What, being naked in front of a room full of people isn’t a good reason?” Patrick chuckles uneasily.

      “Not necessarily,” Gerard answers. “It’s just… they’re boys, you know? Why’d it bother you so much.” Patrick begins to stammer, so Gerard hastily adds, “I’m not invalidating your feelings, I’m just wondering.”

      “Well, there’s no big story, okay?” Patrick responds. “I’m a sensitive guy, I get upset easy. That’s all there is to it.”

      He grabs his bag and walks out, making Gerard call, “You sure?”

      “Yeah.”

     


	2. Chapter 2

Friday is a tough day to get through, initially. When Gerard was younger, he used to get through the day by reminding himself that the weekend was near. But now, that optimism is gone, and every day at school just sort of blends together with an indistinguishable blandness, a plain existence that somehow manages to leave a bad taste.

            For instance, today is a Friday, and Gerard can barely get out of bed in the morning. Mikey ends up having to drag him out; and of course Gerard yells at him, even though he knows he may have been late had it not been for Mikey waking him.

            By the end of study hall, Gerard’s glad he made it to school that day.

            The period starts out with everyone taking their seats in the auditorium, and Gerard totally sits next to Frank (who has no one within ten feet of him), and that is routine, but what’s surprising is that Patrick comes over and willingly sits down on the other side of Frank. Gerard has to keep his jaw from dropping; he didn’t think he’d be seeing a lot of the freshman. But here he is, choosing to sit next to him and his friend.

            “Hey,” Patrick greets.

            Gerard opens his mouth to answer, only to have Frank talk over him. “Hey, Patrick. What’s up?”

            “Not a lot. By the way, I looked it up, and in Fight Club, Tyler definitely dies in the book,” Patrick informs.

            “Shit,” Frank mumbles, digging a crumpled bill out of his pocket, which Patrick takes.

            Gerard is extremely confused. What had happened between the two that they’re now talking so easily, not to mention, having bets? He sits quietly for most of the period, chirping in when he can, but Patrick and Frank are apparently the best of pals and he can hardly get a word in without being interrupted.

            At the end of the class when Patrick leaves, Gerard thumps Frank on the back of the head, making Frank yelp. “What was that for, asshat?”

            “Fucking you, you little prick!” Gerard retorts. “What the fuck was that, you and Patrick?”

            Frank looks genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

            “Why the fuck are you all buddy buddy with him?” Gerard demands. “You’re fucking everything up.”

            “Ouch,” Frank spits. “I’ll have you know that we were Snapchatting until the a.m. last night. I have an angle, and that angle ends with you and Patrick being together.”

            “Well your angle fucking sucks,” Gerard growls.

            There’s a pause, and then Gerard asks, “Wait, so you have his Snapchat?”

            “Of course,” Frank replies.

            “What… what is it?”

            Frank rolls his eyes, digging his phone out of his pocket and opening the app. He scrolls through the accounts, then telling, “It’s pstump98.”

            Gerard adds him quickly, then bolting to his feet, muttering, “I gotta go to class.”

            “You’re welcome,” Frank scoffs, heading off his own way.

            Gerard shoots Patrick a quick Snapchat after school, first thing he gets home. It’s just a picture of his bed with the caption ‘I see its been waiting for me’.

            Patrick responds with a selfie, one that’s literally so cute that Gerard makes a small noise upon seeing it. The text reads ‘omfg you nerd’.

            Gerard responds with a pouty face, the caption being ‘I thought you were the one’.

            Patrick sends one back almost instantly, another selfie, this time reading ‘on a scale of 1-10 yes I am’.

            Gerard grins, lying down in bed. The two Snapchat for a while, and eventually, Patrick reveals that he’s going to the football game tonight. Gerard takes this as a hint to go, and so he tells Patrick coyly that he may run into him there.

            Now, if there’s anything Gerard hates, anything he would protect his children from, anything he would avoid at all costs, anything he would completely destroy and pull off the face of the earth leaving behind no traces, it’s football. But given the opportunity of seeing Patrick, he would do just about anything.

            So he texts Frank, saying ‘I’m going to the game tonight, wanna come?’

            Frank replies with ‘what the fuck are you feeling okay’.

            ‘Haha very funny. No Patrick will be there and I’ll probably sit by him or something.’

            Gerard can almost see the eye roll in Frank’s response, an exaggerated ‘…fine… I’ll have to put some stuff off…. I’m very busy’.

            Gerard laughs, putting his phone away. He hangs out until it’s time to leave for the game, and when that time comes, he wears cologne, brushes his teeth, and puts actual gel in his goddamn hair. He knows that this is a sign that he really wants to impress Patrick, but he doesn’t really care at the moment.

            Gerard drives there, and Mikey being Mikey tags along with him. On the ride to the game, Gerard orders, “Now Mikey, as soon as we get there-”

            Mikey sighs, rehearsing, “You’re going to ditch me because you have better things to do.”

            “Good, I don’t have to waste my breath,” Gerard chirps, rolling the car into a parking spot.

            Gerard delves into the bleachers, immediately finding Frank, as he is sitting about ten feet away from the rest of the crowd in literally any direction.

            It’s not long after sitting with Frank that Gerard realizes something’s wrong. He’ll hardly even look at Gerard, let alone speak, and although he has a bag of popcorn, he barely touches it.

            “Frank?” Gerard begins. He tries to meet the younger boy’s eyes without any success. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

            Frank shakes his head slowly, toeing the  metal bleachers tentatively.

            Gerard frowns, demanding, “Later I get the whole story.”

            Frank doesn’t say a word, just stares at the ground with a blank expression.

            Patrick shows up not much after this exchange. He greets Gerard with a “Hey” and a soft hit to the shoulder before plopping down in between Gerard and Frank. Frank scoots even further away, now thoroughly invested in picking at his fingernails.

            Patrick sighs then turns to Gerard, asking, “How’s it going?”

            “Okay,” Gerard decides. He reaches around Patrick to nudge Frank’s thigh. “Do you know what his deal is?”

            Patrick’s smile drops immediately, startling Gerard. “He didn’t tell you?”

            Gerard shakes his head. “The little shit won’t say.”

            “That’s funny, he told me,” Patrick replies.

            Gerard suppresses both an eye roll and the urge to smack Frank upside the head. “Told you what?”

            Patrick lowers his voice answering, “He um…. Do you know Cody Matthews?”

            Gerard nods, prompting Patrick to continue, which the boy does. “He apparently got into a shoving match with Frank in the halls after calling him a name. And so after school, he followed Frank on his walk home and beat him up in his own yard.”

            Gerard peers over at Frank, now noticing the subtle split in Frank’s lip, as well as the black eye that had been carefully masked with makeup. Frank’s hazel eyes remained cast on   anything but those around him.

            Gerard is taken aback. “Frank, I’m so-”

            “Can it,” Frank snaps. He stands, muttering, “I’m going to go take a piss.” He heads off, making Patrick ask,

            “Wait, aren’t the restrooms in the other direction?”

            Gerard grins faintly, explaining, “Frank hates waiting, so he just goes over behind the old bus barn to pee.”

            Patrick frowns, reasonably confused. “Isn’t that all the way across the street?” After Gerard nods, he proceeds, “It’d be so much easier to just wait in line for two minutes.”

            This sparks an intense debate between the two in regards to Frank’s excretory habits, and it’s during this conversation that both are completely oblivious to Cody Matthews and his gang leaving in the same direction Frank had gone.

           

           


	3. Chapter 3

            Frank always felt kind of insecure behind the bus barn. It’s dark, isolated, and there’s really no people around, unless you take the effort to walk a ways and then cross the street to the high school. He still stands there, back turned to the football field just in case anyone is to walk over, although he doubts that would ever happen.

            He zips up, turning around just to walk straight into the chest of none other than Cody Matthews.

            “C-C-Cody,” Frank stammers, stumbling backwards.

            “F-f-faggot,” Cody mimics, pushing Frank, who nearly falls over.

            Cody’s friends laugh, and Frank takes it as an opportunity to run, only to be grabbed by the back of the shirt and yanked back. Two of his goons restrain him, and Cody stands in front of him, grinning evilly. He squints in the darkness, remarking, “You’re wearing makeup, aren’t you?”

            Frank shakes his head, just to have Cody lick his thumb and rub it under Frank’s eye. Frank squirms with disgust, and Cody laughs. “You are, you fucking twink!” He pauses, realizing, “You also hate germs. Well…” He spits into Frank’s face, the saliva sliding down the side of Frank’s nose and off his chin. “How do you like that, freak?”

            “Please, let me go,” Frank begs.

            Cody smiles, smirking, “Pleading already? You’re pathetic, Iero.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then orders, “Hey, turn Iero around. Get his arms.”

            Frank struggles, but it’s no use as the two bigger teens flip him around. Cody pulls Frank’s shirt over his head, then grabbing onto the waistband of his Marvel boxer briefs. He lifts Frank off the ground by his underwear, making Frank squeal. Cody and his friends laugh as he drops Frank to the ground, kicking his huddled body.

            Frank then has an arm pinned behind his back, and he feels Cody’s breath on his neck as he orders, “Say uncle.”

            “Uncle!” Frank cries, squirming uselessly. His shirt is ridden halfway up his back, spit is still on his face, and his underwear remains bunched and hanging out over the top of his jeans.     

            Cody only tightens the hold, making Frank squeak louder, “Uncle! Uncle!”

            It’s when Frank’s arm feels as though it could snap that he breaks down sobbing, burying his head into the dirt.

            Cody presses a knee into Frank’s back as he stands, making Frank yelp. He again grabs Frank’s underpants and pulls, only making Frank cry harde _r._

“Have a good night, faggot,” Cody spits. “I really hope you don’t show your worthless face in school Monday.”

            The other boys step over Frank, leaving the boy on the ground, curled in a fetal position, crying. That is exactly how Gerard and Patrick find him about five minutes later, with his underwear showing, face in the dirt, and spit dried to his cheek.

            They rush to his side, kneeling in the grass to try and reach his eye level. Frank turns away from them, so upset that he’s almost to the point of dry heaving.

            Gerard helps him to his feet, brushing him off and wiping the saliva from his face. “You okay?”

            Frank shakes his head, bowing it forward. Gerard hugs him, holding the smaller boy close, and Patrick joins in, locking the three into a death grip group hug, which is held for a solid minute or two  before Frank breaks out of it, going off in the other direction.

            “Hey!” Patrick calls. “What’s wrong?”

            Frank faces them and grins crookedly, undoing his pants before pulling them down to his ankles. He blushes, admitting, “I’m fixing my wedgie.” Once his underwear is properly adjusted, Frank wiggles his trousers back up to his hips, following Gerard and Patrick back to the bleachers.

            They keep an eye out for Cody and his friends, but the idiots are nowhere to be seen.  Gerard scowls his way throughout the rest of the game, incapable of calming himself down.

            After the game’s finished, they all head over to Frank’s house. On the car ride there, Gerard fumes about how he’s going to kill Cody. Mikey got a ride home with a friend, so the three boys are the only ones in the car as Gerard vents. Patrick is so scared of Gerard at that moment that he says nothing, but Frank assures, “Gerard, it’s fine.”

            “No, it’s not!” Gerard retorts. “He can’t keep getting away with shit like this! He could’ve really hurt you, Frank!”

            “Yeah, he _could’ve!_ But instead, he just stretched out my underwear a bit!” Frank snaps in reply.

            “What about earlier? You have a black eye!” Gerard points out.

            Frank pouts, stammering, “It-it doesn’t matter!”

            Gerard glares at his friend, who keeps his eyes on the road. Gerard growls, “Frank if you weren’t driving right now I’d smack some fucking sense into you.”

            Frank pulls over abruptly, turning to Gerard and snarling, “Then fucking do it.”

            Gerard reaches over at Frank, taking aimless swipes. He’s restrained by his seatbelt, which is lucky for Frank. Patrick rushes to the front of the car, breaking the two up. “Stop! Come on, you guys are best friends.”

            Frank starts the car again without warning, barreling towards home. All of the boys’ blood run hot, and they reach Frank’s driveway after a few minutes of unbroken silence.

            Once they get inside, things cool down. Frank changes into some pajamas, tossing a pair of pajama bottoms to Patrick. Gerard insists he’s fine, that he’ll sleep in his underwear.

            “Well, then I won’t share beds with you,” Frank replies.

            Patrick blushes slightly, mumbling, “I’ll share with Gerard.”

            Frank’s eyebrows raise, and then he breaks out in a grin, telling, “You two take the bed; I’ll sleep on the couch.”

            They don’t get around to sleeping until the early morning, but when they do finally lay to rest, Patrick tentatively crawls in next to Gerard, naked spare a pair of blue briefs. To Patrick’s misfortune, Gerard rolls up against Patrick in his sleep, his skin hot. Patrick immediately gets hard, and he lays on his stomach so Frank won’t see.

            Frank considers himself the matchmaker of the situation as he falls asleep.


End file.
